


Scar Tissue

by glorious_spoon



Series: Tumblr/Twitter Prompt Fic [48]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22471927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_spoon/pseuds/glorious_spoon
Summary: Jack comes home from a hospital stay to find some unexpected visitors in his house.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa/Jack Thompson
Series: Tumblr/Twitter Prompt Fic [48]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1313993
Comments: 11
Kudos: 85





	Scar Tissue

**Author's Note:**

> A (very belated) fill for the following Tumblr prompt:
> 
> _Agent Carter: Jack suffers some lasting damage from getting shot in the chest and him dealing with this, or OT3 figuring each other out because of how freaked out they are when someone gets hurt, or Peggy and Daniel convincing Jack they do want him in a relationship, with both of them._

Someone was in the townhouse. He knew it the moment he unlocked the door, although it took his exhausted brain a few minutes to sort through the evidence that had brought him to that rapid conclusion. Subtle things, like the doormat scrunched up on one corner like it had been kicked by a careless toe, like the door to the hall closet hanging slightly open, a creaking footstep in the other room, out of sight; a clatter.

Jack gave some serious consideration to the idea of just going back outside to wait until the intruders were done robbing the place, or whatever the hell was going on in there. Then he sighed, kicked the door shut, and drew his gun. He straightened his shoulders as much as he could with the lingering ache in his chest, drawing himself up like he was back at school and some strict teacher might happen by to fix his posture with a sharp jab between the shoulder blades. “Who’s there? Fair warning, I’m armed.”

There was another sharp clatter, the sound of soft cursing, and then Daniel Sousa stepped out into the hallway from the kitchen, oven mitts on both hands.

“Don’t shoot,” he said dryly.

Jack sighed, holstering the gun, and rubbed at his sternum, the fading jolt of adrenaline leaving him shaky and out of sorts. “Sousa, what the hell are you doing here?”

“That’s a fine way to greet your nursemaids,” Peggy interjected, emerging into the hallway behind Daniel. She was, incongruously, wearing a gingham apron over her sharp pinstripe suit. Her hair was pinned up out of her face, but a few wisps had started to come loose. She looked entirely, oddly domestic in a way that Jack supposed not many people other than Daniel got to see. 

That thought brought a twinge to his chest that had not a damn thing to do with the scar tissue, but he had practice hiding that. He set down his briefcase by the door and kicked his shoes off, leaving them in a muddy heap on the carpet along with his umbrella. Straightening up hurt; he tried to hide it, but Peggy and Daniel were both watching him with exasperated expressions that suggested he wasn’t doing all that good a job of it.

It was Peggy who came down the hallway to slip a strong hand under his elbow, giving him a cool, flat look when he glared at her. “Oh, don’t start. I had to find out you were in hospital from your secretary--you’re in no position to fuss about a little hovering.”

“It wasn’t serious,” Jack protested, but he couldn’t seem to get the strength--or maybe just the motivation--to shove her off. In his stocking feet, he let himself be drawn down the hallway and into the kitchen, which was redolent with the smell of coffee and something sweet baking in the oven that he’d never actually used. Peggy deposited him in a chair more gently than he’d expected and went to peer in the oven window. “I didn’t know you could cook, Carter.”

“Mrs. Jarvis sent it over. I’m simply reheating it,” she said, and cast a glare over her shoulder as he started to get up. “Sit.”

“Better listen to the lady,” Daniel said, coming into the room behind them. He tossed the oven mitts to Peggy and settled a warm hand on Jack’s shoulder; it took some effort not to lean into it. “You’re lucky she didn’t storm the hospital.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Jack protested. “It’s just scar tissue, makes it hard to breath sometimes in the damp. That’s all.”

Daniel’s fingers twitched on the back of his neck, and Peggy said, tartly, “Oh, is _that_ all? How silly of us. We thought it might be something serious. It’s such a relief to know that it’s simply massive scarring to your lungs from that time you were shot in the chest.”

“Come on, give it a rest,” Jack said, as she leaned in to pull a fragrantly steaming pie out of the oven and set it on the stove top. Daniel knuckled the back of his shoulder, although Jack couldn’t actually tell if it was supposed to be reassurance or admonishment. He decided to take it as the former. “It’s old news.”

“Not for us,” Daniel said quietly. Jack twisted to look up at him and immediately wished he hadn’t; Daniel was looking down at him with a worried kind of softness that Jack had no idea how to deal with at all. He’d take Peggy’s brittle needling over this any day; he knew that the same concern underlaid that, but this--this just made him feel like he’d been pinned in spot, entirely too exposed.

“Look, Sousa—”

“Just—” Daniel sighed, and exchanged a glance with Peggy over his head, and then sank into the chair next to Jack, leaning his crutch up against the edge of the table. His hand didn’t leave Jack’s nape. With him sitting here, close enough to bump knees and looking at Jack with earnest eyes, the gesture took on a kind of intimacy that Jack was very determinedly _not_ going to read anything into. “Jack. For once in your life, stop being a stubborn asshole and let somebody look after you.”

“Language,” Jack said weakly. “There’s a lady present.”

“I daresay I could blister your ears if I wanted to,” Peggy said, depositing a pot holder on the table and the pie on top of that. Her tone had softened considerably. She sat down as well; not next to Daniel, like he’d been expecting, but on Jack’s other side. “And that’s not the point, as you very well know.”

She set a hand on his other shoulder. He had to turn his head to look at her; her eyes were wide and dark. There was worry there, and something else, something that was on Daniel’s face as well: something sweet and careful that he couldn’t even begin to figure out.

Couldn’t let himself believe, maybe. He knew what it was.

He cleared his throat. His chest still felt tight, and not entirely from emotion. He wasn’t just exhausted, he realized as the smell of paprika and sour cream reached his nose--he was starving. He hadn’t actually eaten since last night, when he’d collapsed on the sidewalk outside his office and his panicked secretary had called for an ambulance in the dizzy, faded moments before he blacked out completely.

Yeah, alright. Maybe he could see why they were worried. And maybe…

He shook his head. That was an idea that he didn’t want to face on an empty stomach. “Look, can we just--I’m starving. Can we just eat?”

“Of course,” Peggy said, but she didn’t stop touching him when Daniel laughed softly, shook his head, and went to retrieve plates and utensils from the pantry. “But don’t think you’ve heard the last of this.”

Jack managed to find a smile for her, and realized with a start that he actually meant it. “Believe me, Peggy, I know better than that.”


End file.
